Astoreth does Ferelden Part 12: Brecilian Forest
by Natmonkey
Summary: Follow Astoreth as she traipses through Ferelden and shares her thoughts and wonders. In this instalment: our heroine and her friends do their best to save a bunch of elves.
1. Arrows and Vital Organs

_Welcome to the latest instalment of_ Astoreth does Ferelden. _You might have noticed that I haven't stopped writing. That was a very corny April 1st joke I made, in the last chapter of pt. 11._

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><p>"You know, I understand that the Dalish hate humans and don't want to be found, but this is ridiculous." As I'm walking backwards to face the people I'm whining to, I kick at a loose stone. The thing hits Oghren's shin. I grin apologetically, he grumbles about how much of an annoying woman I am. "We've been looking for them for days now!" Suddenly the others are quiet and no longer walking. "What?" Alistair points behind me wordlessly and so I turn. I'm greeted by three elves, all of them with a very pointy arrow aimed at vital organs. Nothing out of the ordinary there. "Oh hi."<p>

"Stop right there, outsider." The speaker is a blonde woman with elaborate tattoos adorning her face, apparently the leader of these three. "The Dalish have camped in this spot. I suggest you go elsewhere, and quickly."

It's about bloody time. "We were looking for you, actually."

"I find that hard to believe." Nevertheless, the woman lowers her bow. "What business could we Dalish possibly have with a group like yours?"

"We're Grey Wardens. Well, the tall blond and I are." I point my thumb in Alistair's direction. "We'd like to speak with your leader."

The woman gives me a stern look. "Grey Wardens? How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"Beats me." I shrug. "Do you meet many pretending to be Grey Wardens?"

Hesitantly she nods. "I suppose not. Perhaps I shall let our keeper decide for himself." She gestures for us to follow. "Keep your hands to yourself, and remember our arrows are still trained on you. This way."

Ah, the Brecilian Forest. It's nice and lush; I understand they chose this place for their camp. From his position against my chest, Collin grins his toothless grin at me, happily kicking his little legs as we walk into the Dalish camp. I've taken to wearing him tied in my scarf against my body, so we can be as close as possible. We're bonding. And this way I can keep an eye on the little one. After a few days his eyes were fully opened, and recently he's begun smiling. So adorable! I run my fingers through his hair. It's a little more than before; now he has a distinct copper tuft hanging over his forehead.

"Wynne, are you all right?" I ask her. She's been very quiet for some time, and now she seems especially pensive. "Is anything the matter?"

She absently shakes her head. "Nothing, dear, just something I have been contemplating lately."

"Well, tell me if you like. Maybe it'll help?" I wonder if it has something to do with her spirit. It seems to become weaker, but I'm quite sure she won't keel over and die anytime soon. Wynne is way too tough for that.

"Let's first see what this keeper has to say." The old lady smiles warmly. "Then I will tell you all about it."

That does make sense. The keeper is a bald elf dressed in robes, a staff at his back. A mage, I suppose. He and the lady with the bow exchange a few sentences regarding our presence, peppered with elven expressions. Their language sounds absolutely beautiful. It would be quite neat if I could learn some. After introductions are made (his name is Zathrian, and apparently thinks we humans have no manners, although I bowed and politely told him my name), I can't even get a word in to state our damned business.

"The existence of the Blight is not news to me," the keeper speaks dryly. "I would have already taken the clan north by now, but sadly we don't have the ability to move. I imagine you are here regarding the treaty we signed centuries ago. Unfortunately, we may not be able to live up to our promise."

Now why doesn't that surprise me? Oh right, because this shit happens _every time_. The Blight seems to be an opportune time for all kinds of trouble to break out. The Maker is having us on again. But oh well, it's all a great big adventure, isn't it? A learning experience. I simply nod while Zathrian continues talking.

"This will require some... explanation." The man turns. "Please follow me." And so we are whisked away again. When Dalish camp somewhere, they do it well. Their camp looks more like a kind of village, with those vehicles of them scattered about. Landships? I recall having read something like that. There are even statues set up, of various figures. If there is time, I should really look around here. It's so interesting. Become a Grey Warden, see the world! Yay. Maybe I should've brought Jowan here; I'm sure he would have liked it in the Brecilian Forest. Pity. Well, he had fun in Orzammar, so that's all good. Zathrian has brought us to what might be best described as an outdoor hospital. Several Dalish are lying on stretchers and groaning feverishly. They seem to be injured.

The keeper has a worried frown on his face as he explains the situation to us. "The clan came to the Brecilian Forest a month ago. We are always wary of the dangers in the forest, but we did not expect the werewolves lying in wait for us." He seems to shudder unconsciously from the memory. "They ambushed us and did a great deal of damage, even though we managed to drive the beasts back. Many of our warriors lie dying as we speak." As if to punctuate his words, one of the poor victims groans in pain.

"Can we help them in any way?" I have new healing spells and I'm not afraid to use them! Okay well, I've mastered the first one. I have a new healing spell and I'm not afraid to use it. Poor things. It looks like they are suffering greatly. Werewolves. I thought those were just another dark fairytale.

"The affliction is a curse that runs rampant in their blood, bringing great agony and then ultimately death or a transformation into something monstrous. The only thing that could help them must come from the source of the curse itself, and that... would be no trivial task to retrieve." Zathrian gives me an unreadable look.

I guess I'm supposed to say something. "Well, we happen to be very good at such non-trivial tasks." Finding Andraste's ashes wasn't exactly a walk in the park. Neither was escaping the Fade, or killing a broodmother. Not that I'm bragging or anything. I'm just saying.

"Within the Brecilian Forest dwells the great wolf we call Witherfang. Within him the curse originated, and through his blood it has been spread," the keeper explains. "If he is killed and his heart brought to me, perhaps I could destroy the curse, but this task has proven too dangerous for us." He pats a wounded elf on the arm, and he immediately calms down, ceasing his pained moans. "I sent some hunters into the forest a week ago, but they have not returned. I cannot risk any more of my clan."

But it's perfectly fine to risk us, I understand. It's our job, no? "Did I hear a _perhaps_ there?"

"There is no guarantee this will work as I suspect, but it is the only hope we have left." These words are followed by a barely audible, desolate sigh.

There's not much I can say besides: "We'll find this Witherfang for you." We need their help, so we need to help them with their troubles. Sure. Not even Sten is complaining. Everyone has become used to the things everyone has us do. I'm surprised that over the course of our travels no children have run up to us to have us save their kitten from a tree. It might still happen. I would actually welcome it as a pleasant change from all this madness. Yay, kittens.

"Then I must warn you that more than werewolves lurk in the Brecilian Forest." I didn't think it was possible, but the bald man's face has taken on an even graver expression. "It has a history of carnage and murder, you see. When there is so much death, the Veil becomes thin, allowing spirits to possess things living or dead." Oh woohoo, more demons. Joy. "But if you can indeed help, I wish you luck. Now I must return to caring for my people. If you have any questions, direct them at my apprentice Lanaya, or Sarel, the clan's storyteller. Creators' speed on your way." With a quick nod, Zathrian takes his leave of us.

"You've all heard it: find this Witherfang, kill it, bring its heart to the keeper to end the curse. Now Alistair, you be a dear and go ask this Lanaya everything we need to know about the werewolves." I suspect the pretty, young-looking woman dressed in mage's robes with blonde hair bound into braided buns is her. "I'll go talk to the storyteller."

My fellow Warden does a mocking salute. "Aye, aye, captain!" With Zevran following him close behind, he goes off to speak with the keeper's apprentice. Our Crow will no doubt want to use his charms on her. Maybe he'll finally get lucky for a change. Maker knows none of the women (or men) in our group are interested in his mind-blowing tongue. Unless there are trysts going on I know nothing of, of course. Who would fall for him? Hmmm... Well, that's not my business. All others scatter around, to see the sights or in Oghren's case find booze, I suppose. There are some birds here, and they'd better be wary of Shale. She's going to stomp on whichever she can catch. Stubbs follows me, looking around curiously.

"Do you mind if I come with you?" Wynne asks me.

"I don't see why you shouldn't." I hook my arm through hers. "Tell me about this thing you've been contemplating on the way, then."

The senior enchantress smiles sadly. "Very well..." A deep sigh. "Years ago, I was assigned as mentor to an elven boy, Aneirin. He was my first apprentice. Being from an Alienage, he was very mistrustful of humans, especially of humans in authority."

"Elves live harsh lives in those Alienages, don't they?" This one time I was eavesdropping on a couple of elven apprentices, who were talking about where they'd come from. I heard some nasty things there. Abject poverty, daily abuse from humans who can just get away with it, elves randomly disappearing. The tower is a paradise compared to that.

Wynne nods. "They do. What Aneirin needed, was time. Time to get used to his new home and to come out of his shell so we could build a rapport." Another wistful sigh. "I gave him no such time, young and arrogant as I was. I expected too much from him, too quickly. All I could think of was how he was throwing away his potential and talent, just to be difficult."

I raise an eyebrow. "Really? That seems so unlike you."

"Oh, age and wisdom have mellowed me," she chuckles dryly. "I was quite different back then. A student who is closed off and unresponsive cannot be taught, so what I needed was patience. Sadly, I learned that too late to help him."

"So what became of him then?" Here it comes, no doubt. Something not very pleasant.

The old lady averts her eyes. "Aneirin ran away from the Circle one night. I had berated him over something so unimportant, I can't even remember it. He was just a child, fourteen at the time. They had his phylactery and they hunted him down..." A tremble sets into her lower lip.

"They could've just brought him back. Why didn't they?"

"They called him a maleficar..."

"Oh, that's such bullshit!" Wynne frowns at my rude outburst, and I giggle awkwardly. "Sorry, that just escaped me. But we both know how templars can be ridiculously unforgiving. Did they at least kill him quickly?"

With a white handkerchief, she wipes away a tear. "I don't know. They wouldn't tell me, no matter how much I begged them to. I failed poor Aneirin, when all I had to do was listen to him. He often talked about finding the Dalish."

"Huh, you know, maybe he did find them? The mage-hunters are quite ruthless and thorough at their job, but a little hope won't kill you. And besides," I give her hand a friendly pat. "It wasn't your fault. I'm sure that he has forgiven you, whether he is alive or not."

"You are too kind," she sniffles. "Thank you my dear, for letting me share my greatest regret with you." Her arm winds around my shoulders to pull me closer to her.

Looking down, I see even Collin looks a little sad. Smart boy. Stubbs whines pitifully and bumps his head against Wynne's leg. "No, thank you for telling me. Now, let's find the storyteller and get this show on the road. The sooner we're done with this treaty, the better."


	2. A Delightful Task

Fucking storyteller. He immediately began pelting me with sarcasm. Then one of his clanswomen rebuked him for his unkind words, so he apologized in a hardly genuine way. Instead he employed a more underhanded tactic by telling the children around him of the fall of the Dales. He asked me if I knew what had happened to them; you know, I couldn't help but feel like he was trying to goad me into saying something stupid. Something that would've made a few of them grab me by the collar, throw me from their camp and plant an arrow between my eyes. I merely said that a war had come to pass between the humans and the elves, and that the latter had lost. It was fairly politically correct. The man seemed disappointed. Well, I just don't like the flavour of humble pie. Give me apple pie any day.

Of course I can understand the Dalish being so hostile, what with humans having booted their people from not one, but count them, _two_ homelands. And we're human, so I suppose that what the Tevinter Empire did kind of rubs off on us. Still, he doesn't have to be such a cad about it, so I showed him a fine example of sarcasm as well. Sort of. It's a good thing Collin is here; if he weren't, I would have just sworn like a drunken sailor and made a big ass of myself. So anyway, after his wonderful sermon of the terrible humans that cost the elves their freedom, this Sarel finally deigned to tell us of the forest. The message is clear: the Brecilian Forest is dangerous because of its past of bloodshed and death. And it's alive: the forest can change paths and stuff, trapping visitors. Another delightful task.

Even though Wynne protested, I asked the storyteller if he knew of someone named Aneirin. As luck would have it, he _did_ know someone by that name. It wasn't a common name either. Apparently, he is a healer that likes to live in the forest, surrounded by trees and animals. What are the odds that the person Wynne's been wondering about for years is a part of _this_ particular clan of Dalish?

I really do like this place. Leliana is probably busily scribbling a ballad or an ode about the Brecilian Forest or these elves as we speak. A hand is lain on my shoulder as I'm studying a statue of some kind of wolf. Stubbs barks happily. "Yes, Alistair? You spoke with her?" I turn and smile at him.

"Did we ever!" He is almost doubled over with laughter, clutching his stomach. Behind him is Zevran; he is rubbing his cheek while grumbling phrases in his own tongue. Sometimes he casts a foul glance in the other man's direction.

This is probably a story I'll want to hear. "What exactly happened?"

"Well, she told us about Zathrian. That his children were killed by humans who used to live here." Despite this grim revelation, he is still heavily amused. "She also told us all about the werewolves too. Bottom line: don't let them bite you," he laughs. "Finally our smooth operator here whispered something into the girl's ear. Her eyes became _this_ big!" With his hands he indicates about the size of a dinner plate. "Then she slapped him so hard the sound echoed through the trees!" A wild fit of giggles ensues; before long, Alistair is rolling over the ground laughing. Collin obviously finds this so amusing that he begins giggling as well. That's my little cutie.

Zevran frowns. "She was immune to my charms." As he lowers his hand, I see a red handprint on the side of his face.

"Oh, you poor thing." I take a mild healing poultice from my pouch. "Come." When he steps closer to me, I apply a thin layer of salve to the slight injury. The redness immediately draws away, leaving behind his usual sun-kissed hue. I bet his pride hurts more than his face, but I can't mend that. "Not too much luck with the ladies lately, huh?"

"Sadly, no." He sighs dejectedly, taking my hand in his. "You are too kind, sweet Warden." A soft kiss is pressed to the back of my hand. Charmer. My baby sees an opening and gleefully tugs at one of the assassin's braids, pulling the elaborate construction of his hair loose. That's what you get for hitting on his mother, I suppose.

Clicking his tongue, Zev releases my hand. "Naughty little boy." He tucks the braids behind his ears and smiles. "You will become a fine young man yet," he says adoringly, patting the baby on the head.

"Good move, Collin." Alistair sits and grins up at us. "Who knows what might've happened if your mom had succumbed to his charms?" His grin turns even wider. "Although those charms seem to be flagging a little." This remark earns him another dirty look.

"Charms? What charms?" I laugh at the assassin's wounded expression. "Just kidding."

The Crow's hand lightly brushes my backside. "You can be _so_ mean sometimes." Dear Maker, will he ever stop? Probably not. It's not that I don't find him attractive, far from it; I just don't think it's a good idea. Even if it might be highly exciting. "Can I really not change your mind?"

Luckily I won't have to break his little heart with a negative answer as a troubled Leliana appears beside me. "How sad." With a wistful sigh she shakes her head. "I met a hunter whose wife was killed by the werewolves, or so the keeper claims. He actually fears she has become one herself, because Zathrian would not let him see her body. So terrible!"

"I can't begin to imagine how the poor man must feel. We'll keep an eye out when we're in the woods, maybe we'll run into his wife." Who knows if she'll still be able to communicate, if it is as he fears? That truly sounds like an ordeal. My own situation is nothing compared to that, because I know that both Cullen and Jowan are safe and sound, even if the latter is now a Tranquil. Still I'm not sad. Not at all. I'm worried that I'm losing my heart.

Casually Morrigan saunters up to us, the look on her face pleased as punch. Like the cat that got the cream. "Are we almost ready to go now?" she queries coolly.

"You've done something, haven't you?" I ruffle Collin's hair, coaxing all kinds of happy noises from him, and give Morrigan a stern look. "Do tell."

"Oh, 'tis nothing terrible, I assure you." She smirks and raises her arms above her head to stretch her body; her chest is in grave danger of being exposed, but somehow her boobs manage not to spill from her top. Is she using an adhesive to keep that flimsy thing in place? Pretty brilliant. "I merely gave an innocent youth a few kissing lessons. So that he may please his ladylove better, of course." Yeah right. I bet she's just hoping things go awry between this boy and his girl because she finds out he's put his lips where they shouldn't be. My word; the next time I'd better keep an eye on her.

Alistair's face crumples in a mild expression of disgust. "Ew, I hope that's not some kind of euphemism for something else."

"Kisses do not need to be given on the lips, Alistair..." Morrigan teases him.

"Oh, dear Maker!" He clutches his hands to his eyes and groans. "Cannot... unsee..."

I sigh. "Come on you two, that's enough. Let's find the others and decide on what we're going to do."


	3. Our First Werewolves

_I'm losing my readers! Bwahaha, that's what you get for trying to be funny, I guess._

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><p>I hate having to leave Collin behind, I really do. But I can't very well take him into a haunted forest where a werewolf might gobble him up in one gulp, so I left him in Morrigan's care. Stubbs is also with them, just in case. You never know what might happen, and he's so taken with the witch that he was happy to stay behind. She isn't very thrilled with the way the hound is begging for her attention, but when a dog likes you, he likes you. Not much to be done about that, short of kicking him. But not even Morrigan would be that cruel.<p>

My baby still only feeds on breast milk, so I put some in a bottle for Morrigan to give to him. I tell you, squeezing out enough to fill a bottle is hard work. If only I could take him with me. Thankfully he was hungry just before we left and won't need more for at least an hour or two, but I really hope that the amount I left him with is enough. What else is he going to drink? This may sound terrible, but I have considered giving my boy away. Or just having someone else take care of him until this is over. After all, this Blight is keeping me so occupied and I can't take him into battle with me. I love my son, of course I do, but I also want the best for him. This is really something I need to thoroughly consider.

Anyway, in the end we decided to take a party of four into the forest. Alistair complained and said we should take more, but it feels right this way. I feel compelled to have only three others with me. So it's Alistair, Wynne, Shale and myself. Nothing kicks wholesale ass like a stone giant. Strangely enough, it is eerily quiet here. No birds singing (which is good, because then the golem won't be distracted), hardly any animals. There are darkspawn here though, I feel them, but they're not close enough to bother us yet. Now that I spend my nights without a lover to keep me occupied, I've begun dreaming of them again. Damned darkspawn. They're easy enough to tune out though; I only need to focus on something pleasant, and they leave me alone.

Alistair is behaving rather strangely. Normally he'd be chewing my ear off, but he's very quiet. It makes me a tad curious. "Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, so alone and palely loitering?"

"What?" He sends me a puzzled look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just thought some poetry might cheer you up." I shrug. "You look troubled. Is something wrong?"

His eyebrows knit together in a frown. "Maybe, I don't know." A long sigh. "I feel funny."

"You don't look very amusing." A very poor attempt at a joke, I know. "Never mind, that's not funny. Would you like to talk about it, maybe?"

He looks around suspiciously. "Later then, just you and me."

"Sure, whatever you want. I hope we'll get this wrapped up soon." Collin needs me. "Do you think everyone's all right there with the Dalish?"

"Of course, I don't see why not." The Warden snickers under his breath. "Maybe right now, as we speak, Zev is getting the living daylights slapped out of him."

His laughter quickly dies away as deafening howls ring through the forest. Our first werewolves. Joy.

~*|'-'|*~

Several dead wolves, werewolves and bears later, we're standing face to face with a trio of werewolves that don't seem to want to kill us. At least not right away. The werewolf in the middle growls. It's about three heads taller than me, even with the way it stands hunched over. Eep. "The watch-wolves have spoken truly, brothers and sisters." Its yellow eyes size all of us up in turn. "The Dalish send a human, to repay us for our attack. What bitter irony."

"Hey, you speak!" Wow. "The Dalish had us think you were savage animals."

"We are beasts, but no longer simple and mindless," it says with a growl. "Let that thought chill your spine."

Shale pounds her fists together. "Can't we just crush them and get this over with?"

"You speak to Swiftrunner." The werewolf wisely chooses to ignore her. "I lead my cursed brothers and sisters. Go back to the Dalish and tell them you have failed. Tell them we will gladly watch them suffer the same curse we have suffered too long. We will watch them pay!"

"Can't we just talk?" I put on my kindest voice. "I don't mean to hurt you in any way." Unless you attack me, of course. Then I'll have to defend myself. Which means you die.

Swiftrunner snorts loudly. "Was it not Zathrian who sent you? He wishes only our destruction, never to talk!"

"Is there really no way this can be resolved peacefully?" Alistair pipes up. It's good to see him do some of the talking. Practice for later.

"The time for peace is long past." The werewolf growls. "There will be no peace between the elves and we who are cursed."

"Could you tell me more of your curse?" So far all I know is that the bite of a werewolf might make you one. Or it might make you dead.

In a huff, Swiftrunner snarls: "You know nothing, do you? Nothing of us, and even less of those you serve. You are a fool, and we are done talking. Come, brothers and sisters, let us retreat. The forest will deal with intruders as it always has." And so the three run off.

"That last thing he said, about the forest dealing with intruders," Alistair muses. "It sounded ominous. I wonder what he meant by that." Well, so do I, but we will see for ourselves soon enough.

~*|'-'|*~

Living trees. Sure, why not? _Angry_ living trees. I got to try out my new healing spell, and it works like a charm. Three people and a golem healed, with one spell. The novelty of this is probably never going to wear off. I'm studying the one for revival every free moment I have, but I don't have it nailed yet. So far, we've not encountered any changed paths. That's good. Strange to find dead templars in this place. Were they looking for apostates? Probably. It's not like they do much else when they're away from their Chantry. Unless they are out buying a ring for their forbidden mage girlfriend. Yes Cullen, I'm looking at you.

Suddenly a tree stirs, greater than any I've seen so far. And with a suspiciously anthropomorphic look about it. "Hmm, what manner of beast be thee, that comes before this elder tree?" Sweet Andraste, it's a rhyming tree! Now I've seen it all.

"Uhm, I'm a human, can't you see? Perhaps I am too small for thee." Never thought I'd see the day I would be talking to a tree. Much less join it in its rhyming. Great fun!

The tree comes closer and bends, as if to take a better look. "Ah yes, I remember thy kind. So brief of life and all but blind to the peril you cause, the lives you take, such chaos is sown within thy wake." How I wish I wasn't too lazy to bring out my quill and paper. These rhymes are awesome. "Allow me a moment to welcome thee: I am called the Grand Oak, sometimes the Elder Tree."

"It... rhymes?" Shale sounds flabbergasted. "It's a rhyming tree. What kind of strange magic is this?"

"The world is certainly full of... marvellous, unexpected creations." Wynne seems to be wondering whether she's not dreaming or just plain high as a kite. "Each day we see something we never thought possible."

Funnily enough, Alistair says nothing. He just looks up at the tree as if he hears them talking and rhyming every day. I wonder what's going through his mind right now.

"And unless thou thinkst it far too soon," the Grand Oak continues, "might I ask of thee a boon?"

I shrug. "Yes, but not if this boon leads us to our doom." We're everybody's errand boys, why not help a tree out, right? Besides, this could make an interesting tavern tale. Something to tell Collin when he's a big boy. Heh, something to tell Cullen if I ever have the time to visit him again. He'll probably call me crazy.

"I have only one desire, to solve a matter very dire." The Oak sighs, shaking its leaves. "As I slept one early morn, a thief did come and stole an acorn."

"And you want this acorn returned to you. Tell me, is this true?"

The Grand Oak nods emphatically. "All I have is my being, my seed. Without it I am alone indeed. I cannot go and seek it out; yet I shall die if left without."

"Count on us, Elder Tree. We shall get thy acorn back for thee." We'll probably come across this acorn-thief on the way. Let's live a little.

"Go to the east to find this man. I shall await, do what thou can." With that, the tree stiffens once more, assuming its old position. Almost like a normal tree. Almost.

~*|'-'|*~

"Hey, can you hear that?" My ears pick up a groaning noise. "Sounds like someone is hurt."

Lo and behold, not too far away from us a tattered elf is lying on the ground, desperately trying to get up. "What? Wh-who...?" He looks up at me, his face caked with blood from several wounds. His eyes are an eerily pale grey colour.

"You are hurt very badly." I kneel beside him. "What happened to you?"

"We were sent to find Witherfang," he speaks feebly. "Bring his heart. Attacked! I..." His eyes roll back into his head as he faints. There's not much left of his leather armour; his entire body is covered in deep wounds. Claw marks only; no bites, it would seem. Some of them are still gushing blood. Ouch. I use a simple healing spell, so at least his most severe injuries become a little less severe. Small nicks disappear, greater wounds scab over and cease their bleeding. He needs to be returned to his people.

I get back on my feet. "Shale? Can you carry him for me? Carefully."

"Very well." She grumbles and picks the elf up, handling him like a delicate object.

"We should get this guy back to the camp. Does everyone agree?" I look around and see that Alistair and Wynne nod gravely. "Great, let's go."


	4. Such a Fun Forest

Even before we've reached the Dalish camp, the woman who welcomed us before greets us again. I believe Zathrian called her Mithra. Lovely name. "_Andaran atish'an_, Grey Wardens." Now that she knows we haven't come to kick her clan from the woods, her icy demeanour has thawed. "Our scouts saw you approaching and tell me you carry the body of one of our hunters with you." A look of relief washes over her face as she inspects Shale's passenger. "Ah, Deygan! He is wounded, but I think he will live. _Ma serannas_, your help is appreciated. Come, _lethallin_." She gestures for the two men with her to take the wounded elf from the golem's arms. "Let us take Deygan to the keeper, and quickly. If we are lucky, we may still save him!" With great haste they run off to do their thing.

"Well, now that we're here, I might as well check up on Collin." I continue on to the camp and find Morrigan sitting in the shade of a tree, rocking my baby before her chest. "Hi Morrigan, how are things going here?" I sit myself beside her and pat Collin on the head. He is sleeping soundly.

"They are going very well. He is so quiet and well-behaved." She smiles. "The little one seems to be particularly interested in my necklaces."

Heh, cute. "They _are_ sparkly. I apologise if he has broken anything."

"Oh no, nothing is broken. He merely touches them and stares in rapture." Her expression turns more serious. "I have changed his diaper and fed him some milk, but perhaps you would fill the bottle again? I fear we shall run out of it otherwise."

And now I feel even more sympathy for cows. "Sure. Give it to me." I spy around, but there aren't many people in this spot, and the ones that are, aren't looking at us. Screw it, I'm too lazy to hide for this. I press the bottle (a quarter of milk gone already) against my bared breast and squeeze; not much comes out. Ugh, this is going to take a while.

"Perhaps I can help." Morrigan laughs. "You are not a cow, Warden. This is not the way to extract mother's milk." Instructing me to hold the bottle steady, her slim fingers begin kneading and massaging my breast just around the nipple. I don't know how she's doing it, but it feels almost as if I'm really nursing. Instead of droplets, a little stream of milk flows out. "You see, the trick is to simulate the child's suckling. Bare the other one."

I obediently do as she commands. "Can I do this without any help?"

"I doubt that. However, I am sure the old cat will assist you." The witch chuckles. "Or Alistair might be willing, if you have no problems with his head exploding."

"I do, actually." I roll my eyes. "Guess who is going to have to clean up the mess afterward?"

She laughs delightedly. "Oh, I do enjoy your sense of humour."

"My humour, or the mental image of Alistair's head exploding?"

Her lips curl into a wicked smile. "Hmmm... Perhaps 'tis a bit of both."

"Hot." A familiar voice, accompanied by a lascivious chuckle.

I look up to find Oghren standing there, his eyes fixed on my chest. Where Morrigan is still busily extracting milk from me. I hadn't quite realized how very inappropriate this is. "Enjoying the show?"

"Yeah!" He nods enthusiastically. "Any chance you ladies are going to continue this in private somewhere, with less clothes on?"

Morrigan sighs in exasperation. "Men and their perverted fancies." She neatly buttons my robes up for me. "There, all done." With a smile she picks my baby up from her lap and continues rocking him in her arms.

"Perverted fancies? _You're_ the one playing with another gal's boobs!" the dwarf exclaims angrily.

"Oh, you should have seen the time she poured honey all over her body and let me lick it off." I wink at Morrigan, which earns me an amused look from her.

Just as I think I've broken him, Oghren screams: "By the tits of my ancestors! _Really_?"

"No, my dear friend was jesting." The witch drapes her arm around my shoulders, a sensual tone in her voice. "I merely fed her honey by hand, letting her suck the sticky sweetness from my fingers."

I add: "Don't forget the time we bathed together."

"Also hot." He sighs blissfully. "That's going to keep me warm for many nights to come."

"You know, Oghren, we never really talk." I beckon him to come closer, and the dwarf sits down in front of me. "How are you?"

There is still a dreamy grin plastered to his face. "Distracted... I mean, I'm fine. Why?"

"How are you coping with Branka's death, for instance?" I'm guessing with lots and lots of alcohol, and his... Oghren time. Lots of polishing of his sword going on in his tent. And he doesn't even _have_ an actual sword.

"That sodding great dew-licker had a heart clad in iron. She only had one love: the Anvil. And later, the Anvil." He shrugs. "I'll be fine."

I pat him on the head. "Good to hear." Even if I'm quite sure he's lying. Recently he was drunk and called me a wool-gnawing poetess who had stolen his princess away. I've no idea how he could've mistaken me for Hespith, but it speaks volumes. He misses Branka still. Or maybe not, seeing how shortly after that, he propositioned me. I think. Something about sauce for a rump roast. Well, whatever the case may be, I sadly don't have the time for this now. I get up. "I should collect the others, so we can continue our search. I'll see you when we get back."

~*|'-'|*~

"That's odd." There is a camp here, ready to be used. It's not far away from where we found the wounded hunter. A fire is smouldering, bedrolls are laid out, tents set up. But not a soul is present here. "Where are the campers?"

"This looks very inviting, doesn't it?" Still, Wynne looks at the site suspiciously. "How is it that it has been abandoned?"

I shrug. "No idea. Let's investigate." Hmm, a fire would be nice right now; it's a little cold in this eerily quiet forest. Those glowing embers are beckoning me to light them, and revel in the warmth. When did I get so tired? It's like I haven't slept in so long. Something is wrong. "Don't look at the fire pit; it will drain your strength. Are you all suddenly tired too?" The tents are cosy and inviting, the bedrolls warm and inviting. Everything is inviting. It feels like a trap, and at the same time, it doesn't.

"No." Shale chuckles. "I am not bothered by such bodily functions."

Alistair yawns loudly. "The elves didn't set this up. Strange. And yet it all seems so... friendly." He yawns again, stretching his back. "I want to do nothing but remain."

"I feel... magic here." The old lady is already straining to find words. "We should leave."

I literally have to pull myself away from the bedroll. I need some sleep. Desperately. "Well, I don't know about you guys, but I am knackered..." Screw it. Just a tiny bit of shuteye won't hurt.

~*|'-'|*~

Brrrrr, how cold this water is! It takes my breath away. But no matter the temperature, nothing is going to stop Astoreth from having her bath. The last time was too long ago. I can't stop thinking of how beautiful this forest is, even with its creepy atmosphere. Constantly it feels as if something is watching me, and I don't mean squirrels or werewolves. Unnatural beings from beyond the Veil. Best not think about that. I pinch my nose shut and dunk my entire body into the water. _Argh_, that's so cold! Cold and refreshing.

As I'm wringing out my hair, powerful arms envelop me from behind. I feel a muscular body close to me, rigid flesh pressing against the small of my back. Hot, hungry kisses are administered to my neck and shoulders. A familiar scent. "Alistair, what exactly do you think you're doing?"

"It's called foreplay, my dear." He laughs softly, his strong hands skimming my curves. "I know you like to skip right to the main event, but let me play with you for now." Fingers linger on my breasts; judging from the approving hums in my ear he likes them a lot.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" This isn't like him. "I don't want you to touch me like this." _Liar_. Of course you want him to touch you like that. Still, there is something very wrong here.

"You don't?" A hand slips between my thighs. "Then why are you so wet?"

I have to suppress a moan when his fingertips teasingly graze my button. "Well, in all fairness, I _am_ standing in water here."

"I know the difference between water and a woman's wetness," he chuckles. He is now circling my clit with determined motions.

"You're not supposed to know that. You're a virgin, for crying out loud!" Where did he learn this? My knees are beginning to tremble. It's been a while since a man touched me.

The circling stops; instead, a finger slides into me. "A virgin, me? Not after you took care of that so thoroughly."

"You'd think I would remember that." And then suddenly I do remember it. It was weeks ago, that Alistair burst into my tent in the middle of the night and began kissing me, caressing me. His touch was desperate, his body burning hot. My senses respond to the memory, this memory and those of all the things we've done since. Even as physically I can't help but wriggle in his arms, mentally I am very uncomfortable with the situation. How is it that Alistair is so easy to accost a woman while she bathes? Where did those memories come from so suddenly? As I remember it, he is an adorable, bumbling boy who wouldn't know a cunt from a cauliflower. This doesn't make any sense.

And there is something else that is off. But what is that exactly? Ah. Realization hits me like a mallet to the chest. The infernal whisperings of the taint, humming at the edge of consciousness whenever he is near. They're absent. I remember now. The strange camp in the Brecilian Forest. I twist from his grasp and turn. "You're not him."

The creature that is wearing my friend's guise utters a low, menacing chuckle. Instead of hazel puppy eyes, this one has empty black orbs behind its lids, gleaming like polished onyx. "What a shame. You and I could have had such _great_ fun."

"Gah!" I awake with a start. Alistair is lying right next to me, sleeping like a child. I shake his shoulder vigorously and yell at him, but nothing works. The same goes for Wynne. "Guys, wake up!" This camp site is evil. "Shale?"

"Yes?" As it turns out, the golem is standing beside me. "It has decided to wake up? That is good, because there is a demon right over there."

Of course! It's a demon luring unwitting travellers to their doom with this deceptively inviting, but evil campsite! That explains everything! Better make sure it will never do that again.

~*|'-'|*~

With the demon's demise, so the treacherous invitation of the camp ceases to exist as well. I was lucky Shale was awake to help me, because without her, I'd have probably been killed. My mana pool could stand to be a bit deeper. Fucking demons. Hate them! Apparently the camp has been here for a very long time. Skeletons of victims are lying on the ground, still curled up into a sleeping position. If that incredibly sexy dream had been more convincing, I could have been one of them. The camping paraphernalia that were set up apparently weren't even real. The two sleepers open their eyes.

"That was a good nap," Alistair proclaims in a mighty yawn. "A really good nap. Whoa, where did all these dead people come from?" He scrambles to his feet.

"What happened?" Wynne sits up and rubs her eyes.

I sigh. Tired. "This camp was some demon's trick to lure travellers to their doom. It's gone now, so it won't happen again."

"Good to see you took care of that." The Warden looks at Shale. "Shale, is everything okay with you?"

"A little chipped, but otherwise I am in great condition." She makes it sound as if he posed a very stupid question. It's not his fault he's caring.

He lays an arm around my shoulders. "Are you all right? You look a bit pale."

"I'm drained, not a drop of mana left." I show him my arm, where the demon managed to get in a hit. My sleeve is ripped, deep claw marks in my upper arm. It hurts a little. "It would be great if we could rest sometime soon, seeing how I can't use any lyrium."

In the meantime, Wynne has brought out her supply of bandages and medicines to care for my wounds. "Of course. Just hold on a little longer, dear; we still have a bit of daylight left."

* * *

><p><em>I realize that milking a woman as described above is bullshit (or I think it is), but I couldn't resist having Morrigan touch Astoreth's breasts and a massage looks sexier than the way one would milk a cow.<em>


	5. Serious Talk

That bit of daylight turned out to be over two hours. Two hours in which we encountered more angry werewolves and I had to hide behind Alistair to stay safe. Ugh, all this Grey Warden business is seriously taking its toll on me. I'm a new mother, I should be resting and knitting little socks for Collin or something. Not that I know how to knit, but this would be an excellent opportunity to learn. Instead we're going after complicated errand after complicated errand. I sure picked the right time to raise a child. Well, enough of my whining. I'm lucky to be where I am. Wynne has already turned in for the night, and I doubt Shale gives a fig about our conversation, so: "Ready for that talk?"

Alistair looks up from staring into the fire. "Oh, right." With a sigh he scratches his head. "Do you ever get the feeling that it's all becoming a bit too much for you?"

"Yeah, pretty much all the time." I shrug. "But that army isn't going to come to us, so there is no time for personal stuff. Is there anything in particular bothering you?"

"I don't want to be king." There is a sad look in his eyes. "Do you think I should be? Am I fit to rule this country?"

I open my arms, and tightly hug him when he comes into my embrace. "I really can't answer that for you. What do _you_ think?"

He shrugs. "Oh, I don't know. I'm not very political; I'd rather be fighting darkspawn. It is what I do best."

"Well..." I run my fingers through his hair. "This is something you should decide all on your own. In your life, many decisions have been made for you, no?" He nods quietly. "Becoming king should be _your_ decision, and yours alone. So don't listen to arl Eamon, or me, or anyone else. Just think about what you want." I realize that's about as vague as you can get, but I don't want to put any thoughts in his head that shouldn't be there. It should be his choice.

"Thanks." His arms wrap around my waist, his body so very close to mine. And just earlier today I was sent a dream about him touching me most inappropriately. We're familiar with each other, but not _that_ familiar. Still, the idea has so much erotic potential, I've been a tad overexcited since I woke up earlier. It's time I brought out Branka's toy again. "I'm glad you trust me to make my own decisions. But seriously, do you think I would make a good king?"

I raise an eyebrow at him. "Honestly?"

"Oh, I don't like the sound of that. But yes, really, honestly, tell me what you think," he begs.

"I don't think you would make a good king, no." Dramatic silence. "I think you would make a _great_ king. You've got a good head on your shoulders, you are understanding, you've even become considerably more eloquent over the course of our travels. And last but not least..." I pinch his cheek. "You'd look really dapper with a crown on."

He playfully swats at my arm. "Your idea of funny will be the death of me yet, woman. So you wouldn't mind if I'd become king?"

"Nope." I plant a kiss atop his head. "We would all be very well off with you. Is there more bothering you?"

A long sigh rolls from his lips. "I don't know. Everything is just so strange. I mean, that tree today... Was that really a talking tree? I couldn't wrap my head around it. Sometimes I think this is all an insane dream, and I'm going to wake up and get scolded for missing my morning exercises."

"You know, in the Dead Trenches, do you remember the army of darkspawn we saw down in that deep gorge?" The memory is chilling. "When I looked down, I felt as if the entire world was teetering on the edge of that precipice, and you and I are the only ones to prevent it from falling in and being destroyed. It's an overwhelming feeling."

"Wow." For several minutes, my companion is silent. "I never thought of it like that. You're definitely not making me feel better with that."

Okay, so much for sharing my own feelings. "I apologize. Never mind me then."

"No, no, I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry. Being a Grey Warden is a tough job. Especially if there are only two of us." Leaning his head against my shoulder, he speaks softly: "Thanks for letting me vent. Talking to you really helps."

Such a sweet thing of him to say. "It was my pleasure." I unwind my arms from around his shoulders and cup his face in my hands. "Now, if there is nothing else, I would like to go to sleep." Fighting the urge to steal a kiss from his lips, I press my mouth to his forehead instead.

"No, I feel a lot better. Thank you." There is a look on his face I've never seen before, as his eyes seem to sweep across my features. He is irresistible, with the way the light and shadows of the fire play on his face, but I really shouldn't. His purity is not for me to ruin, no matter how much I'd like that. But simply the thought of his powerful frame is enough to make me week in the knees. Why, why don't I miss Jowan more? Is it simply as he said, that I've become so practical that I feel his sentence is deserved? Well, to be perfectly honest, it's convenient not to be racked with guilt.

"Sweet dreams then." Briefly I press his face against my bosom in a hug. "By the way, did you dream while you slept in that strange camp?"

His eyes light up considerably; he nods with enthusiasm. "Oh yes! I dreamt I had a twelve foot dinner table all to myself, and on it were so many kinds of cheese!" He's almost drooling. "Gooey cheese, firm cheese, stinky cheese, scentless cheese, salty cheese, spicy cheese..."

I can't help but laugh. "My friend, your love of cheese borders on the inappropriate."

"Maybe a little," he admits, cheeks slightly reddened. "But it's just so good! What did you dream of?"

Telling him the truth is pretty much out of the question. "I dreamt of Cullen, and Jowan. Do I need to tell you more, or can you fill in the blanks yourself?"

"Yes, I can fill them in myself, thanks." His face turns a bright red. I fancy that his blushing isn't caused only by embarrassment. "Well, uhm, goodnight."

"Goodnight, Alistair dear." Heh, virgins.


	6. Sneaky Girl Bonding

_Oops, my bad, almost missed this chapter. Silly me. I think you'll enjoy it though. _

* * *

><p>Something cold and wet is poking into my cheek. "What?" I stir and feel a weight on my chest. This is weird. The first thing I see when I open my eyes, is a familiar little face, grinning widely and toothlessly. "Huh? Collin?"<p>

He coos happily and immediately grabs a boob. I swear, if it were any other guy, I'd smack him. So good to see you again, pumpkin! I hug him close. The cold, wet thing that was prodding me turns out to be a wolf's nose. A wolf with golden eyes, purple rings around the irises. "Hi, Morrigan." I pat her head. Such soft, thick fur.

She shifts into her human form. The process happens so quickly, I can't even describe it. One moment she is a wolf, a woman the next. "Hello, my friend. How goes the search?"

"We've not found Witherfang yet." Cradling Collin in my arms, I sit up and expose my chest so he can feed. "Did you have any trouble finding us?"

"No, none at all. Your scent is easy to follow." The witch chuckles. "And of course, there is the stink of cheese that Alistair exudes, and the sickening smell of lavender from Wynne. 'Twould have been impossible to miss."

I look around; Alistair's bedroll is empty, but Wynne still seems to be sleeping. "Okay, well, that's good. You didn't run into any werewolves?"

"The little one and I kept to the shadows and made sure they could not smell us." Her eyes take on a naughty sparkle. "What I did run into on the way here, was Alistair taking a bath. Care to spy on him with me?"

Alistair, taking a bath? Naked? Drops of water running down his body? Count me in. "I most certainly do."

We sneak through a variety of Brecilian vegetation and push away low-hanging branches, making nary a sound. Eventually we reach a cliff overlooking a small body of water. And another, definitely more spectacular body that is happily splashing around in it. We crouch low and stare ourselves silly.

"Are you as fascinated with this as I am?" Morrigan whispers. Her eyes are eagerly devouring Alistair's form.

"Uhuh..." Oh, Maker's breath. His muscles ripple with each one of his movements, his skin slick and glistening. The water is opaque from up here, and tantalizingly reaches up to his navel. Oh, my. We've truly struck gold with this. I could just lick it for hours. Uh, I mean, I could stare at him for hours. If Jowan were still around, I would tease him about how Morrigan and I were having fun spying on Alistair's bath time. He would then throw a fit about how I like the Warden better, giving me no choice but to prove my love to him. Mmm... I do miss him, but without any pain in my heart. At least that's something. "So you're convinced of his charms now too, are you?"

The witch shrugs. "I can find absolutely no fault at all with his exterior. If Alistair were to forever cease speaking, then he might be considered perfect."

"Really? I like hearing him talk." I shift my weight to my other foot. Unexpectedly, Collin makes a noise as he pushes away my breast. "Sssh, little darling. Mommy's very busy spying on uncle Alistair right now." Promptly the child snaps his mouth shut. He's so smart. I run my fingers through his fuzzy hair. "Good boy."

"I do not know how you can suffer his inane babbling." She takes Collin from me and rubs his back to elicit a little burp from him. Instead of a little burp, however, it is a fearsome roar. In the water, Alistair freezes in alarm and looks around. Thankfully it doesn't occur to him to look up. "We had better leave." Morrigan gives the baby a stern look. "This is the last time we shall take you along for such a stealthy operation." He simply grins in response and grabs one of her necklaces to suck on a bead.

As quietly as we came here, we leave again. "Do you have enough milk left to last about a day?" I ask her as we halt a small distance from our little camp. "I hope we won't be gone much longer."

"The bottle still contains enough, yes. I merely came to strengthen your bond." The witch carefully wraps my son in my scarf. "This is an important time for you and your child; you must not spend too much time away from him."

"Trust me, I don't like it either." I sigh. "But I have no choice, and besides, I know he is safe in your care. Thank you for bringing him here." Briefly I hug her.

Morrigan nods. "'Twas no trouble at all. Stay safe, and hopefully we shall see you again soon." When she has turned into a wolf, I loop the scarf with my child around her neck. Silently she trots away. How kind of her to go through all this trouble and even share some sneaky girl-bonding time with me. She truly has changed.

I arrive back at the makeshift camp almost simultaneously with Alistair. I had half expected him to walk in with only a towel wrapped around his waist, but alas, he is fully dressed. He looks very different with his hair plastered to his head like that. Wynne looks up from the breakfast she is cooking us. Turnips, oh goody. "Good morning, Alistair."

"Good morning!" He grins joyfully. "Did you sleep well?"

"Oh, it is far too cold here for these old bones," Wynne complains. "Not even the fire helped."

"Aw..." He shoots her a pitying look. "Maybe we should huddle a bit closer then, next time."

The old lady nods quietly. "Yes please, that would be very welcome."

"How about you, Aster?" Alistair picks me up and briefly swings me around. "See, I made up a nice nickname for you! Do you like it?"

Aster. Hmm. "Sure. Does it have any special kind of meaning?"

"You don't know what an aster is?" He raises a curious eyebrow at me. "It's a kind of flower. Long, narrow petals in bright pink and purple colours and a yellow heart."

"Oh, in that case I like it a lot." Being likened to a flower, even if it's only coincidentally, is always nice. It beats being called Ass. "How did you sleep?"

His cheeks turn red in a furious blush. I have no idea why though. Maybe he was just galloping his maggot again. Jerkin' his gherkin. Or... Oh dear. Before going to sleep, I used my toy to bring myself off several times. Damn it, I thought everyone was sound asleep. Ah, well. That will teach me. "I-I uh... I slept great. You?"

"So did I." Standing on my tiptoes, I press a soft kiss on his cheek. Burning hot. "Well then, let's have some of those lovely turnips, shall we?" Bleh, turnips. I hate them almost as much as I hate demons.


	7. Braised Werewolf Tail

I feel sad. A little. We came across a female werewolf (not that I could tell that from sight, mind you), who was in obvious pain. And still wearing a scarf. Danyla was her name. After she'd told me about the ruin in the middle of the forest where the werewolves have their base, she begged me to end her life and bring her scarf to her husband. I think that this Athras is the one Leliana had spoken to. I really had to pet her, I couldn't resist. Don't judge me; I like animals, even big, tough and scary ones. She gave me a funny look, but didn't protest. Just begged me to show mercy. So... I pulled out my dagger and stabbed her in the heart. "Gods bless you," she said, right before she died. Killing living creatures brings me no satisfaction, but sometimes, it is the only solution. Danyla was suffering too much from this curse. I hope that now she can be at ease. And her husband too, when he finds out what truly happened to her. Maybe I should leave out the fact that it was me who killed her.

This is unexpected. Just before us, is a camping site for one person. A red-haired elf, tattoos on his face, appears to be sitting around idly. In a werewolf-infested area. Carefree and uninjured. How...? He jumps up as soon as he sees us approach. "Friends, turn back, please," he speaks urgently. "These woods are a danger to those who..."

"Aneirin?" Wynne's eyes instantly light up and become suspiciously shiny at the same time.

"Come," I whisper to Alistair and Shale. "Let's just leave them to talk for a moment."

They both nod; we discretely hover nearby while the senior enchantress and her former apprentice catch up, or she asks him about what happened to him. It's so personal, this is none of my business. Now that she knows that he is still alive, maybe her one single regret may be resolved. So she can do something else that is really unwise. Like getting drunk and having sex with Oghren, or something.

~*|'-'|*~

I hear a loud *poof* behind me and turn around. Where there was nobody before, now stands an old man with a beard. Did he just _literally_ pop up? This place is fucking weird. Staff at his back. Appearing as if by magic. A mage. An apostate. Templars would be having a field day with this one, no doubt.

"Oh dear, oh dear!" the old man babbles. Funny, nervous voice. "Not a werewolf and not a spirit even, what are the woods coming to?" Someone seems confused.

I roll my eyes. "Okay, whatever, let's just go."

"Questions, questions, always questions!" ...I didn't even ask anything, so that he's so aggravated about it makes absolutely no sense. "They say it was questions that made me mad; will it do the same for you? Ask a question and you will get a question, but give an answer and you'll receive the same! Oh, I do so love to trade!" Gleefully the nutcase claps his hands.

"So you want me to answer a question?" See, now we're getting somewhere.

The crazy guy sends me a smug look. "Wouldn't I have to ask a question first?"

Right, let's cut this a little short. "Would you like to ask me a question?"

"I think it is your turn to ask, is it not?" he answers, nodding enthusiastically.

"Warden." I push him forward. "You're going to play the game with this peculiar gentleman."

"What? Why _me_?" he whines. "I don't talk to people, that's your job."

I fold my arms under my breasts. "Beg pardon? You're the one wearing the Warden-Commander armour, friend. Consider it a forced lesson in diplomacy. Go ahead, ask him about the Grand Oak's acorn." This is the eastern part of the forest, after all, and I doubt there are many suspects. There is Aneirin, but he's a great fan of nature apparently, so that's not a likely acorn thief. Wynne told me all about their chat. Even proudly showed me this amulet he gave her. The old lady really looks happy.

"Fine." Giving me a dirty look, he steps before the old man. "Do you have the Grand Oak's acorn?"

"Ahhhh..." The wrinkled face takes on a shifty expression. "Suddenly it all becomes clear! You here, that talking tree there, it all makes sense now. Yes, I do have its acorn. I stole it, and it was easy. If you want it, you'll have to trade me for it! And nothing from that silly tree either." You know, it appears to be a good idea for this man to live here. I doubt that he would function well in society. The constant cackling and rubbing together of hands is a bit odd. "But that's all I have to say about that. An answer for an answer, there you go!"

Alistair nods thoughtfully. "Do you want to ask me a question?"

"May I? Oh, I think I might!" Scratching his beard, the hermit mumbles in contemplation. "What is your name?" he finally asks.

"My name is Bob," my colleague returns, absolutely stone-faced. So this is a lesson in lying to strangers as well. One cannot have too many skills at their disposal as a king, I suppose.

The old man squeezes one eye shut and shoots him an obviously distrusting look. "So you claim, but I'm onto you! _They_ sent you! Can't fool me though." He lets loose a mad giggle. "But it's your turn to ask now. Ask! Ask away! I dare you!"

"So, uh..." From the tone of his voice and the way his mouth is twitching, I'd say Alistair is amused by this lunatic. "Do you live here?" He gestures to the makeshift camp, and the tree stump that seems to have a tiny room built into it. Maybe he's a contortionist too.

"Yes, I live here and it's not as bad as you think. Where else to go, eh? I must stay away from _them_!" The old man's beady eyes dart around randomly, as if he's frantically searching for something. His mind, perhaps? He sure seems to have lost it. "They are out there and looking! They will take your secrets, yes, all of them and leave you empty! Now, what to ask..." Again his withered fingers pull at his beard in reflection. "Hmmm... Where were you born?"

My fellow Warden grins. "I was born in a bed."

"That's what _you_ say!" More paranoid behaviour. "How do I know it wasn't in a stable, eh? Or under a tree? Hm? Hm? I will see through your facade yet, mark my words!" The warning look the hermit has in his eyes is utterly comical. "Ask! Ask away! _I dare you_!" Nervously he begins chewing his grimy nails.

"I'd better speed this up, no matter how much fun I'm having," Al mutters under his breath. No more dirty looks for me, I think. "Do you have anything to trade?"

The madman reaches behind him and conjures up a dented helmet, putting it on his head. It's way too big. From the chest pocket of his shirt, comes an acorn and some crumpled papers from his pants pocket. "Let's see, I'll trade you an acorn, a helmet I found or a book I finished years ago. Provided you have something in return."

"I'd like the acorn." Alistair is eyeing the little thing greedily for some reason. Crazy rubs off.

"Oho! And what do you have to trade for the acorn?" Teasingly, the old man keeps it out of the boy's reach.

Briefly Alistair makes his thinking noise before his eyes light up. "I have cake!" With that, he begins rummaging through his pack. And produces a cake that looks awfully familiar.

"A cake you say?" The hermit gives the item a curious look. "What kind of cake is it?"

After a brief sniff, my handsome friend makes a face. "_Pickled_ cake, from the smell of it."

"Pickled cake? How very unusual. It will be an excellent accompaniment to my braised werewolf tail, on a bed of canavaris pâté and garnished with a coulis of Andraste's Grace. Give me that!" He snatches the cake away, leaving the acorn in Alistair's hand. "There, now that's done. What else have you got on your agenda, hmm?" Immediately he tears off a chunk and stuffs it down his mouth. _Ewww_!

"I should go, goodbye." Grinning in amusement, Alistair grabs me by the arm and begins pulling me in a different direction. Wynne and Shale follow suit. "That guy is completely bonkers," he whispers, making a whirlpool movement next to his temple with a forefinger.

"Oh, I see!" the old man screams behind us. "You're going to report to _them_ now, are you? _Fine_. Good _day_ to you, ser!"

I give my friend a curious look. "So Bob, that was the cake I gave you just before Lothering, wasn't it? Why on earth have you kept it for so long?"

"Well..." His cheeks turn a deep shade of pink. "It was a present from you, so I couldn't just throw it away. I couldn't eat it either, since it was old to begin with and Stubbs had drooled on it."

"Aw, aren't you just the sweetest?" I give his cheek a little pinch. "Fair enough though. I have kept the muddy bloomers Stubbs brought me once. And your rose." That's begun wilting, sadly. Still, it's quite a long time that it's stayed fresh. "So how'd the diplomacy thing go for you?"

He shrugs. "It's not bad, I guess. I'd still prefer it if you did the talking." Proudly he shows me the acorn. "Should we bring it back right away, or would you rather check out this area some more?"

"Let's just look around some more."

~*|'-'|*~

That... was weird. At least now we know what everyone means by the forest keeping out intruders all on its own. We encountered a foggy area, near some ruins. So we go in, we don't see a single thing while we stumble around in there, and when we get out, we're back where we started. Even though we walked in a straight line. Stupid forest. The hermit wouldn't tell us either what that is about. Unless we would kill the Grand Oak. I see no reason to kill an awesome rhyming tree. It's done nothing to me. Except for a jolt of inspiration maybe. Ha-ha. Anyway, we just decided to return the acorn. Maybe the tree can help us.

"Can I give it? Can I?" Alistair gives me the adorable-little-boy-look, an unmistakably happy sparkle in his eyes. "Can I?"

"Sure you can." I pat him on the back. "You were the one who got it back, you take the credit."

"Yay, thank you!" Excitedly he runs up to the great tree. "Hello, Grand Oak!"

Aww, look at that. Isn't he just adorable? Sometimes he's so much like a child, I almost forget that he's a grown man. But then I look at him, and I remember. Heh, the things I remember. Giving him a massage, lying in bed with him, pressed against his mostly naked body. And more recently, watching him bathe. Good times. Oh, and Alistair making sweet, sweet love to Jowan. No, wait, that only happened in my head.

The Grand Oak stirs. "My acorn is still gone, so I pray to thee... Hast thou any news for me?" it asks imploringly.

"We sure do!" Full of pride my colleague holds up the acorn. "Is this the one you were looking for?"

"My joy soars to new heights indeed!" the tree answers with a happy gasp. "I am reunited with my seed!" It snaps off one of its branches. "As for thy reward, here it be. I hope its magic pleases thee. Keep this branch of mine with thee, and pass throughout the forest free." Warden and Elder tree swap items, and the latter resumes its old position. "I wish thee well, my mortal friend." It gives Al an amiable nod. "Thou brought my sadness to an end. May the sunlight find you, thy days be long, thy winters kind and thy roots be strong."

After a wave goodbye, Alistair wraps an arm around my shoulders. "I really like the Brecilian Forest! It's such a place of miracles and weird things." He seems to be pleased as punch.

Shale snorts in derision. "At least _someone_ likes it here."


	8. Bruised Butt

With the branch of the Great Oak, the fog dissipated and left the way open. However, and there is always a however or a but involved, we were welcomed by a committee of werewolves. Swiftrunner again. I tried to get them to talk to us, but alas. This time we did get into a fight (nobody died), and we actually got to see this Witherfang. A white wolf, with branches growing out of it for some reason. A beautiful animal. It knocked me over, so here I am, lying on my back. The wolves have all fled.

"Are you all right?" Alistair, ever the gentleman, offers me his hand and helps me up. "Are you hurt?"

"Well, I think my butt might be bruised a little, but otherwise I'm fine." I pat the dust from me as well as I can.

My friend grins. "Well uh, I could take a look at it for you, if you like?" He eyes me hopefully, his cheeks red as roses. I swear, his blood spends more time in there than anywhere else.

"Ah, silly children," Wynne laughs. She sounds endeared. We're a pair of adorable kids, yes.

"Maybe later." His expression makes me blush. Does he really want to see my butt so badly? "Right now, we have stuff to do. Don't you agree?"

"Yes..." He nods wistfully. "I suppose we do."

And so we continue on. More werewolves greet us. Our arrival seems to greatly upset them.

"We are invaded!" one of them growls. "Intruders have deceived they way into the forest!"

"No, no!" I raise my arms. "We just..."

I'm thoroughly ignored. "Fall back to the ruins! Protect the Lady!" The creatures flee again.

"Who is this Lady?" Alistair muses. "Sounds important to them."

"Their leader, perhaps?" Wynne offers. "We should try to speak with this Lady, if they give us the opportunity."

"Or we could just smash them all!" Shale, of course. Who else?

I shrug. "Let's see if we can talk to them first, and if not, we'll have no choice but to smash them."

~*|'-'|*~

These ruins are old. So old, that the forest has begun growing into it. The place rather reminds me of the temple we found Andraste's ashes in. Wynne wondered aloud if the ruins are Tevinter or elven. I have no idea; architecture never truly interested me. Well, I like pretty buildings, but I don't know anything about them. Strangely enough, for a base of werewolves, the place is full of undead. Shale's been having a great day, smashing brittle bone to splinters. There is a door on the top floor that is impossible to open. Leliana showed me how to pick locks once, but I'm not very good at it. The best I can probably do is the flimsy lock on a diary. Our trusty golem attempted to break the door open, which didn't work either. She pounded at it so hard that bits of stone flew off her fists, but nothing worked. Tevinter or elven, these people knew how to make doors.

We've been on two floors, and not one werewolf. Lots of dead adventurers though. What we did encounter, was a dragon. The damned thing set my sleeve on fire; now I have a rather severe burn on my left forearm. Appropriately, it hurts like the blazes. What is it with dragons and sleeves? The last one did that too. Alistair came to my rescue and lopped its head off. I always have these little accidents, it's beginning to get annoying. But I'm sure it beats being stuck in Aeonar with Lily. A dab of cooling ointment, some bandages, and I'm good to go again. I can always lie on my bedroll and suffer with a lot of noise later. _Oh, the pain! Waaah! Help me! I'm dying! Woe is me! _Heh, nah.

Hmmm, and what have we here? It looks like some kind of gem. With a red liquid in it. "Do any of you have any thoughts on what this might be?"

Shale shrugs. "It knows it should not ask me these questions. The crimson fluid inside reminds me of the bird I smashed as we left the village." A long, blissful sigh. "Ah yes, that feathered little fiend, soundly squished to a pulp under my foot. Wonderful..."

"This appears to be a phylactery of some kind," Wynne says sagely, after giving the golem a wary look and stepping away from her a bit. "The essence of a mage, kept magically preserved. If that were all it is, however, I would be surprised." True enough. I remember seeing Jowan's phylactery; it looked very different from this one. More like a tiny bottle, than a gem.

Alistair cocks his head to the side. "Is that... blood in there? Whose, I wonder? It _must_ be magical, I mean, it's is still liquid after all this time."

"Yes, I suppose." I reach out to touch the phylactery. Warm. "It's very..." Images pop up in my mind. Images of things I can't possibly know of. This isn't something that my own brain concocted. There is something in this thing. And it's scared.

_Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you._ No need to speak aloud; besides, the others might wonder if I've lost my mind. The frightened sensations cease, then become more like indecision. It doesn't want me to leave it alone. More images. It's been in here for so long. So long that it's lost its mind. No, not it. He. An elf. A mage, like myself. I can't see it to be true, but I simply know it is. Not clad in robes though, no. In armour. Peculiar. _Where are we exactly? Can you tell me what happened here? _

For a while, nothing comes. Wait, yes. A place of serenity, where people come to sleep and others pray to gods on their behalf. Some kind of temple, that doubles as a burial space? That does explain all the dead we encountered. I don't think this spirit remembers much of this. Suddenly... War. Death. Violence. That's a change from the serenity earlier. _Were you waging war with humans?_

Apparently not. This place was built by humans, and the war happened long after that. I'm not sure what else he's trying to say. A war with other humans? Something else that killed all those who lived here? Hmm. Well, never mind that. _So how did you get in this gem? _

More images of battle. Elves and humans are terrified; they run away from something. What that something is, I cannot see. All I get is a sense of great dread. This must have been something terrible indeed. The spirit shows me how he uses this gem, Life Gem, he calls it, to escape his body. Someone is going to come and help, he thinks. But so far, I'm the only one to speak with him. Poor thing. _Were you a mage? _

A confirmation. Not just any mage; mage and warrior at the same time. I'd never thought something like that was possible. Mages are physically quite weak, normally. A phrase swims into my thoughts. Arcane Warrior. _What's an Arcane Warrior?_

The images come swiftly, but not in great detail or number. An order of elven mages, who use magic as their strength and fight to protect others. Magic, instead of strength? Fascinating. And then, a promise. To teach me what he still remembers, so I can sort of be an Arcane Warrior myself. _I'd like that._ Then I will have to promise him something as well: to help him pass on. No more existence trapped inside a gem. _Of course. How?_

Another image. A stone altar, upon which I am to set this Life Gem. It will then explode, and he will cease to exist. Strong feelings of yearning; so strong, tears begin flowing from my eyes as if they have a life of their own. How terrible it must have been in here, all alone and always hoping for release. Oh dear, he doesn't remember where that altar is. I look around. My vision is blurry. How fortunate: a stone altar, exactly as I've been shown, is right over there. _I found it. Let me help you._

I walk over to the altar, gem in hand. Despair begins flowing through me, despair and hope. Am I sure I want to learn how to be an Arcane Warrior? _Fuck yeah_. Confusion. _I mean, yes, please_. Images flood into my brain. Meditation, learning how to channel my magic inward and be able to deal melee damage with that, instead of my non-existent physical strength. This way, I can wield swords, shields, other weapons, wear heavy armour. Once I'm advanced enough with the first stage, other abilities will follow. A plea for release. _Thank you for your memories. Peace be with you._ I lay the Life Gem upon the altar; just before it actually hits the stone surface, the spirit sends me a feeling of gratitude and joy. Then, it explodes. Quickly I shield my face with my hands. Ow.

"Aster?" Alistair gingerly places his hand on my shoulder. "Are you all right? You seemed to be in a bit of a trance."

I turn to face him. "There was something inside that gem. Someone. He'd gone crazy over the ages, and wished to be released. So I did." Wincing, I pull a shard from my hand. Blood gushes out.

"You're crying." Carefully he wipes away my tears. "Was it so bad?"

"Yes. I was shown some very strong emotions. He also taught me how I might channel my magic to use it in lieu of strength, and fight like a warrior." I look up at him. "Will you teach me how?"

Hazel eyes light up. "Sure! I have a spare sword and shield you could borrow, and..." With a happy grin he sweeps me up into a bear hug. "We're going to have so much fun!"

"No doubt we are." I smile at his enthusiasm. Even in a danger-filled ruin he can be so extremely cheerful. "Please put me down. I can almost see my house from up here." Once I'm back on my feet, I add: "We should continue on. I'm anxious to return to my baby."

"Of course, of course." As we walk, the Warden drapes an arm around my shoulders. "Let me give you a few pointers to get you started. See, if you want to knock someone down with your shield, the key is to really put your _back_ into it..."


	9. My First Swim

"What, through there?" I point to the pool at my feet. The water is dark and foreboding. "I hope that's a joke."

"Yeah, I wish it were, but it's the only place we haven't checked yet." Making all sorts of clanging noises, my fellow Warden begins stripping off his armour until he is left in only the clothes he wears underneath. "I'll go check it out, you all wait here a moment." Unhesitatingly he dives in.

I whistle. "I would rather not go in there. Wynne, can you swim?" I pick up all the pieces of armour strewn around and place them in a spare bag. It won't keep them dry, but I need _some_ way to carry them.

"Of course. When I was still a child, I would go swimming all the time." She casts me a sidelong glance. "But you've never done it before, have you?"

"No." Heat rushes into my face. "I'm a little scared, because I have no idea how to swim."

Shale scoffs. "Pathetic."

"Have you ever swum, you disrespecting heap of stone?" I place my hands on my hips and glare at her. It's that her control rod is broken, or I would've had her act as a bird bath for a while.

"No." The golem has the audacity to laugh. "But unlike it, I will not drown."

Just as I'm getting ready to chew her out, Alistair emerges. "It leads to a floor above, an area we haven't been to yet." With a wide grin he beckons me. "Come in, the water is great."

"I uh, I can't swim." I blush some more.

"Oh, that shouldn't be a problem. Just hold on to me, and I'll get you there." He shows me a confident thumbs up.

"Very well." I sling the bag with his armour over my shoulder. "Wynne, would you be able to take Shale with you?"

The old lady nods. "Yes, I think so."

I dip my hand into the water; it's lukewarm. A temperature so perfect, it's like I'm not in water at all. Carefully I lower myself in. Why a waterway? Damned werewolves. Now I'm going to be sopping in my boots for hours. "Are you sure this is no problem?" I move behind the Warden and loop my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist.

For a brief moment his body tenses. Breasts against his back, I understand. "No, we'll be fine. I'll count to three; take a deep breath, hold it in and we'll go down. Whatever you do, stay calm. Don't freak out, nothing will happen to you. Okay?"

"Okay."

He nods. "Good. One... Two..."

Just before three, I suck my lungs full of air and hold it in. We take the plunge. Boy, I sure hope this passage will be short. Holding my breath isn't something I do often. I see... not much. Quite dark in here, although sometimes I can make out human-like shapes. More dead adventurers, or silly undead who wandered in here by accident. Thankfully, we're out of the water in a flash and I did not even once feel the urge to panic. A gulp of fresh air is very welcome.

"Are you all right?" After getting out of the pool, Alistair helps me out as well. "You didn't inhale any water or anything?"

"Thank the Maker, no." I shake myself like I've seen Stubbs do several times. I can see why he does it; it is super effective. "I'm fine. You?"

"Gah! Stop splattering me!" he sputters. "I'm wet enough already."

I hand him the bag with his armour. "Well, excuuuse me, princess." Meanwhile I can feast my eyes on his so very aesthetically pleasing form, almost transparent shirt clinging to his broad chest, every line of his muscles showing. Glorious.

"That's _ser_ princess to you." With a mock glare in my direction, Alistair starts putting his armour back on. So much for my sight for sore eyes.

Moments later Wynne comes up, gasping loudly. "Oh my! It has been a while since I've been for a swim." She gratefully accepts my hands to pull her out. "This is so inconvenient, don't you think? Perhaps we should start a fire and dry first."

"That would be a great idea, but we don't really have the time, I'm afraid." I show her an apologetic smile. "Dalish dying, thirsty babies waiting for their mothers, you know what I mean."

"Of course. We should not keep little Collin waiting for so long." Sighing wistfully, she wrings out her little ponytail. "Troublesome creatures," she mutters under her breath.

"This swimming business looks utterly ridiculous. The elderly mage doing the doggy paddle," Shale chuckles unexpectedly. "Thankfully I could just walk on the bottom." She easily hoists herself up onto the dry floor. "Now squishing something soft and watching it fountain blood, that I will never get enough of."

Right on cue, a long-drawn howl echoes through the stone halls nearby.

"Well then, I think our furry friends have heard you."

~*|'-'|*~

More injuries. This time it was me who nearly died. A werewolf suddenly popped up behind me and almost tore off my shoulder. I exaggerate, of course, but if it hadn't been for the mighty Rock Armour, my shoulder would have been gone. The claw marks were ridiculously deep, and after all our enemies were killed, Wynne had to pick out bits of fabric from the gashes with a pair of tweezers. I swear, this job is really pushing my pain threshold to its limits. It hurt so much I started crying. Which earned me lots of hugs from Alistair, so I suppose it's not all bad. Stupid Shale nearly laughed herself into a seizure. Feh. If she weren't so useful, I'd have kicked her to the curb ages ago.

Ugh, I ought to pledge my allegiance to Wynne for all the times she's saved my sorry behind and become her slave for life, or something. But since we Fereldans don't believe in slavery, I suppose a little gift will have to do. A little, _expensive_ gift. Hmm, new robes? Yes, I think that might be... I crash into something hard and fuzzy, landing on my ass. This seems familiar. Looking up, I see another one of those ginormous werewolves. Oh no. It's not alone either.

"You know, you really need to pay more attention." Alistair abruptly yanks me up. By the arm that is attached to the shoulder I nearly lost. "Oh Maker, I'm so sorry!" he gasps as I cry out in pain.

"Well, _you_ need to pay more attention too." I check my wound, and lo! It's begun bleeding again. Oh, that is just marvellous. Never mind. It will stop again eventually.

All the wolves, save one, are snarling dangerously. "Stop! Be at ease, brothers and sisters," the composed one speaks. Instantly they calm down. Talk about leadership. "We do not wish any more of our people hurt, outsiders. Are you willing to parley?" Its gaze shifts back and forth between Alistair and me.

"Yes, yes, go ahead. But don't mind if I bring out some poultice to put on my shoulder, yeah?" After a few moments of rummaging through my pack, I find a little jar of healing goodness and a clean cloth. I pull down my sleeve (it's come off from the robes at the shoulder). "Well? Start talking."

"Not with me." The werewolf emphatically shakes its head. "I have been sent to you on behalf of the Lady. She believes you may not be aware of all you should be. She means you no harm, provided that your willingness to parley in peace is an honest one."

Having wiped away some blood with the cloth, I rub on a generous amount of ointment. "You do the talking, Your Highness. I'm a little busy here." Ointment, bandages. I could be my own nurse.

"Don't call me that!" he protests, a sour expression on his face. "Fine. Why didn't you speak with us earlier, if you were willing to?" Oh, I can answer that one: because that would have been too damned easy.

"Swiftrunner did not think it would matter. The Lady disagrees, and since you have forced your way this far, we must acquiesce to her wishes." Impatiently it taps its clawed foot on the floor.

Alistair still doesn't seem convinced. "And how are we supposed to know we're not about to walk into an ambush?"

"What would be the point?" The werewolf shrugs. "You have already proven your strength, and we have no wish to anger you further."

"You are no longer mindless indeed," I butt in. Must... fight the urge to pat it on the head like it's a good boy. "Let's go talk to your Lady then. We promise we'll behave, don't we?" Everyone concurs, even Shale.

"Follow me," our guide growls. "But I warn you, if you break your promise and harm her, I will come back from the Fade itself to see you pay." It motions us to follow before it turns its back on us.

I keep any return-threats to myself; someone who is so devoted can only be admired. On the way, a gathering of werewolves stands along the sidelines. So many of them. They snarl menacingly at the four of us as we follow the negotiator. Of course I'm highly intimidated, but I hold my head high and my back straight. Never show fear or anxiety. Even if my boots make a wet sopping noise with every step I take. Damned waterway.

Finally we arrive in a large chamber and I am guided before a creature of indescribable beauty. Not so indescribable that I can't try though. The Lady has the shape of a well-formed humanoid female, with dull silver skin and smooth, ebony hair that covers half of her breasts. She wears no clothing, but is covered by tree-like growths in strategic places. Her hands end in long, pointy branches instead of fingers; her eyes are an obsidian black. Wow. I'm not so bedazzled that I cannot see the similarities between this creature and Witherfang, however. She inclines her head. "I bid you welcome, mortal. I am the Lady of the Forest," she greets us in a pleasant, echoing voice.

"Astoreth, Alistair, Wynne and Shale." I point to each of us in turn. "What is it you'd like to talk about?"

"Zathrian has not told you that he created the curse that these creatures suffer, the same curse that Zathrian's own people now suffer." A tone of sadness has crept into her words.

Swiftrunner, who is standing right next to his Lady, growls and behaves quite nervously. He instantly calms down when his mistress strokes his arm. "The humans... tortured the boy, killed him. The girl they raped and left for dead. The Dalish found her, but later she learned that she was... with child. She killed herself," he explains. Zathrian's children. Such horrible fates.

"Is that why Zathrian cursed the culprits?" The ones who did the deed deserved their end, but surely not all the werewolves we encountered were they.

Swiftrunner nods. "Zathrian came to this ruin and summoned a terrible spirit, binding it to the body of a great wolf. So Witherfang came to be."

The Lady of the Forest and I spend the next few minutes going back and forth about the situation. She and her furry friends like the curse to end, as would the elves, as would we all, so I agree to talk to Zathrian. A curse that keeps on going for centuries and is contagious to those who have nothing to do with the original offense is ridiculous. I explain that Zathrian only wants Witherfang's heart to cure his own people, after which she pretty much admits to being Witherfang herself by stating that she can either summon him, or make sure he is never found at all. I can put two and two together, you know. It makes four.

So now she has opened a door for us, a door that turns out to be the one we had such trouble opening. Hooray for shortcuts. Shale naturally complains that we should just kill them, but she can get bent for all I care. The more we can solve without bloodshed, the better. Sometimes pounding things isn't the way to go, no matter how much fun getting pounded is. Granted I'm thinking of a different kind of pounding. But wait, Zathrian is already in the ruins, right in front of us. Hooray for not having to walk all the way back and then here again.

"Ah, and here you are already," the keeper speaks.

"What a lucky coincidence. We were just about to get you." Don't look a gift horse in the mouth.

He raises an eyebrow. "Get me, why? The spirit has convinced you to act on her behalf, then?"

"Yes. She won't summon Witherfang, unless you break the curse. I realize that Witherfang and she are one and the same, though." I shrug. "Look, it won't hurt if you just go and talk to them. I understand that the humans have caused you great pain, but the werewolves have regained their minds. You'll see."

The bald elf vehemently shakes his head. "No, they are still savage beasts. All they will want is revenge, or a release I will not grant them. Let us take the heart and end it."

"We are not just going to march in there and start killing things. I propose that you speak with them first." Arms folded before my chest, I stare the man down until his hard gaze softens.

"And what if it is revenge they want, and not talk? Will you safeguard me from harm?"

I nod. "Naturally. Unless you attack first."

"I fail to see the purpose behind this," he sighs. "But very well. It has been many centuries now. Let us see what the spirit has to say."


	10. Peace at Last

I am beginning to suspect this cannot be resolved peacefully. Zathrian refuses to end the curse, Swiftrunner just yells about how the keeper should be killed, and the Lady pleads and soothes. As it turns out, Zathrian used blood magic to maintain the curse and his long life. Avernus could have learned from him, I think. Centuries old, but still such a youthful look to him. I can only hope to be this free of wrinkles when I'm centuries old. Oh wait, thirty years left. Awww...

"We must kill them all!" Swiftrunner suddenly bellows. Wait, what? _All_? We did nothing!

"_You see_?" In an outrage, Zathrian turns to me. "They turn on you just as easily. Do what you have come here for, Warden, or get out of my way!"

"No. I wouldn't have blamed you if you had murdered those who have the blood of your son and daughter on their hands, but this curse has gone way too far out of hand." I point my staff at him. "You will end it now, even if I have to force you myself!"

Alistair nods gravely and draws his sword. "We're standing for what's right here, no matter what."

"Then you die with them!" Zathrian hisses angrily. "_All of you will suffer as you deserve_!"

And there is the fighting. Humbug. Oh yay, a blizzard. Why not a firestorm? That way I could have dried properly. Or died instantly. Time for a Glyph of Neutralization, bitch! ...And he just keeps on casting like it's not even there. Oh, for crying out loud.

~*|'-'|*~

Fully spent, Zathrian sinks onto his knees. "No, no more," he wheezes. "I... I cannot defeat you." He looks pale and haggard, every drop of mana gone after all the powerful spells he cast. Me, I'm as fit as a fiddle. You know, apart from the numerous injuries. Trees came to life, demons were summoned, werewolves went berserk; it wasn't pretty.

"Finish it! Kill him now!" Swiftrunner screams, claws bared and ready to pounce.

"No, Swiftrunner!" The Lady lays a soothing hand on his shoulder and pets him. "We will not kill him. If there is no mercy in our hearts, how may we expect there to be any in his?"

Shale sighs deeply. "Oh, somebody please kill _somebody_."

"I cannot do as you ask, spirit." The keeper's breathing has returned to normal, the intense hatred drained from his features. "I am too old to show mercy. All I can see are the faces of my children, my people." He sighs in dejection, deep emotion in his voice. "I... I cannot do it."

I kneel beside Zathrian and look him in the eye. "Think of your clan. They too are dying of this curse."

"Perhaps... I have lived too long," he admits reluctantly. "This hatred in me is like an ancient, gnarled root. It has consumed my soul." With obvious effort, he gets to his feet with a bit of help from me and faces the Lady of the Forest. "What of you, spirit?" he addresses her. "You are bound to the curse as I am. Do you not fear your end?"

She shakes her head. "You are my maker, Zathrian. You gave me form and consciousness where none existed. I have known pain and love, hope and fear, all the joy that is life." Her lips curve into a tired smile. "Yet of all things I desire nothing more than an end. Please, maker..." She clasps her hands together in an earnest plea, and the werewolves gather around the two. "We beg you, show mercy."

"You shame me, spirit." The elf regards her wearily. "I am an old man, alive long past his time."

The spirit gasps. "Then you will do it? You will end the curse?" There is barely contained joy in her voice.

"Yes, I think it is time." Unexpectedly, a genuine smile breaks through the man's otherwise serious features. "Let us... Let us put an end to it all." It feels as if he is at peace, as if he perhaps has found some closure.

The werewolves bow their heads in gratitude, one clawed hand pressed against their hearts. After what seems like a final gathering of courage, Zathrian simply pounds his staff on the floor one single time. Promptly he drops to the floor, dead. A white light envelops all, and the Lady begins... blooming, I suppose you could call it. Pretty little flowers appear all over her, while the werewolves pay their respects one last time, before the white light becomes searing. I have to cover my eyes.

Soon I feel a gentle tug at my arm. Upon lowering my hands, I see a group of people. Zathrian's sacrifice has worked for them, which means that the elves must be getting better too.

"It's over," the man who heads the group says. "She's... gone, and we're human again. I can scarcely believe it." With evident disbelief, he studies his hands. They are no longer huge, furry and equipped with a sharp claw at the end.

"So... now what?" I study the men and women before me, and see they are all happy to be human again, if a bit wary. After such a long time spent as animals, surely this could be a dream.

The first speaker shrugs. "We'll leave the forest, I suppose. Find other humans, see what's out there for us. It should be quite interesting, don't you think?" he chuckles happily. "Thank you, we'll never forget you." And so the brand new humans leave the ruins, cheerfully chatting amongst each other or looking at their new bodies in a daze. Oddly enough, there is no trace of Zathrian's body.

"Whew." Alistair lets out a long breath and pats my mostly uninjured shoulder. "Another job well done, huh?"

"I guess so."

Wynne laughs. "No need to be so modest, young lady. You have quite the way with words."

"Indeed. The conflict was resolved most satisfactorily." Shale nods enthusiastically.

"Wait, what? Even _you_ approve?" Consider my mind boggled.

"Why, of course." The golem tilts her head in confusion. "I got to crush a few bits and pieces, the annoying little elf who tried to trick us has gone up in smoke and we may now travel through the forest in peace. What's not to like?"

I give her a thumbs up. "And here I thought you were only interested in fighting and killing." Resolutely I make my way to the door. "Let's get out of here. I really need some sleep, and some happy baby time."


	11. Never Been Kissed

_And now, the final chapter of this instalment. Prepare for a surprise._

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><p>Finally. Back in our good old camp, belly full of some good hearty stew. I gave the scarf to the werewolf's husband (poor man was sad but relieved), the hunter whom we found in the woods insisted on thanking us personally and the new keeper Lanaya promised to honour the treaty with the Grey Wardens. The last one is in the pocket.<p>

As soon as I set foot in the Dalish camp, I heard a happy bark and was bowled over by Stubbs, who almost licked my face right off. I think he missed me. Morrigan and Collin followed him closely, but she wasn't quick enough to prevent me from getting my wet, smelly welcome. Oghren we found passed out under a tree, drunk out of his mind, and Zevran just came stumbling out of a tent with his hair all messed up and an infinitely satisfied look on his face. I'm not even going to ask.

Currently I'm sitting by our roaring fire with Collin in my lap. "I've missed you, my precious." I tickle his tummy, making him giggle. "Have you missed me too? Hmm, have you?" He responds very well to all the kisses I'm covering him with. With happy cooing and laughter, kicking his little legs. Ah, there is nobody I could love more than my own son.

Leliana sits herself beside me. "I was just thinking of what happened to the elves, and I am... reminded of a song sung to me, many years ago," she announces in a pensive voice. "It was when my mother died, and this wise elven woman comforted me and told me that we shouldn't fear death, or hate it. Death is just another beginning. One day we must all shed our earthly bodies to allow our spirits to fly free."

"Hmm. That's a comforting thought."

The bard nods. "It's a beautiful sentiment, I think. One that brings peace and hope to the grieving." With a sad smile on her face, she strikes up a song in that wonderful, lilting voice:

"_hahren na melana sahlin  
>emma ir abelas<br>souver'inan isala hamin  
>vhenan him dor'felas<br>in uthenera na revas_

_vir sulahn'nehn  
>vir dirthera<br>vir samahl la numin  
>vir lath sa'vunin<em>"

Even without musical accompaniment, the song is... almost heartrendingly beautiful. Actually, somehow it feels like there is an orchestra here. I've never heard her sing before, come to think of it. A voice like that could soothe any troubled heart. Heh. I'd been listening so intently, I never even noticed how everyone else has gathered around the fire to listen. I pat Leliana on the knee. "That was exquisite. What does it all mean?"

"Elder, your time is come. Now I am filled with sorrow. Weary eyes need resting. Heart has become grey and slow. In waking sleep is freedom. We sing, rejoice. We tell the tales. We laugh and cry. We love one more day," she translates. "It's a traditional elven song. _In Uthenera_, they call it."

"You should really sing more often." Alistair sounds like he is heavily impressed. "I really liked that. I think we all did." Everyone nods, except for Collin; he is reverently silent. Stubbs gives a quiet little woof.

Chuckling awkwardly, the minstrel's cheeks turn pink in a visible blush. "Oh, thank you."

"It really was wonderful. Well, this has been a very long day, so I'm off." I get up and head in the direction of my tent. "Goodnight, everyone," I call over my shoulder. In return I am wished the same.

I swear, my bedroll has never looked this inviting before. But first things first: feed the baby if he wants it, then tuck him in. "Are you hungry, my darling?"

Collin grins and tugs at my robes. "Nyah!"

"Oh, your first word!" I gasp. "No, wait, nyah isn't a word. Never mind."

As soon as my chest is bared, the little one begins feeding greedily. I'm a little sad that my robes must soon be thrown away; no seamstress in the world could save this torn, ragged tatter of a garment. But what in the name of Andraste am I supposed to wear then? I pull my robes down all the way to my hips and inspect my belly. Huh. It seems to be less pudding-like than it was before. That is one good thing about the running around we do: you don't really get the chance to get fat. Even after eating ridiculous amounts, I don't have that much extra weight left over from my pregnancy.

Footsteps sound just outside my tent. "Aster? Can I speak with you?"

"Sure, come in." Alistair seems to want to talk to me often lately. I like that. Abruptly the baby pushes my breast away and yawns. "Done, are we?" I manage to cover myself just in time for my fellow Warden's arrival. "Hi, Al. What can I do for you?" Collin briefly studies me from his pillow before his eyes flutter shut. Softly I press a kiss to his forehead, covering him with his blanket. Sweet dreams, my angel.

"There is this one thing that keeps bothering me." The young man has already draped himself over my bedroll; between him and Collin's 'bed' there is hardly any place for me to sit. "Something very personal. I'd have spoken to Jowan about it, but he's not here anymore and I trust you."

"I'm honoured. What's bothering you?" What bothers me, is that I don't seem to miss Jowan. I think of him plenty, but there is no pain involved. Maybe I'm distracted, I don't know.

For a few moments Alistair just stares at me, chewing his lip. "Do you think I will ever lose my virginity?"

That's a _very_ personal issue indeed. "Good-looking lad like you? Sure. Why are you wondering about that now?"

"Well..." He sighs. "It occurred to me that we could die at any moment. If you and Shale hadn't saved us in the forest, that camp could have killed us all. I've never even been _kissed_, Aster." There is an obvious tone of despair in his voice.

"Never been kissed? Never? Never ever, ever?" I cast him a curious look.

A slight smile breaks through. "No, never ever, ever, ever."

"I see." I shrug. "You know, I wouldn't worry too much about it. Such things happen when they happen. And if they don't, you could ask someone." Grinning, I add: "Maybe Morrigan would be willing." And pigs will fly.

"Eww..." Alistair makes a dirty face. "I'd sooner kiss a viper than I'd kiss _her_." Instantly his face becomes red all the way down his neck. "How... how about you?"

I laugh. "Oh, I think I'd pick Morrigan over a viper, myself." Hmm, I think I would enjoy kissing Morrigan. Her voluptuous lips on mine, crimson paint getting smeared all over my mouth. Maybe some groping as well. Heh. Oh my. "What?" I find Alistair staring at me with an unreadable look in his eyes. "Sorry, I got a little distracted."

"I didn't mean if _you_ would kiss Morrigan. Would you..." He swallows thickly. "Would you consider doing that for me? Giving me my first kiss?"

My mouth falls open unflatteringly, my heart rate picks up. "I... what? You have no idea what you're asking of me." A kiss like that is so intimate. I fear it would change things between us, and I don't really want that.

"What do you mean?" Alistair scrambles to his knees, bumping his head against the narrow wooden beam that supports the roof. "Ow! The ceiling is so much lower in here."

"I'm small, ergo, I need a smaller tent. Sorry." I press my lips to the spot on his head he was rubbing. "Look, I don't mind kissing you; you know how I think you're hot. But I've no idea what the consequences might be." When I kissed Cullen, wasn't love the consequence? Eventually Jowan and I became lovers. Daveth, well, I don't know. Something might have happened if he hadn't died. Daniela was the only one who didn't really pack a punch. Guess I don't like girls _that_ much.

Eyeing the ceiling warily, Alistair sits down, wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me onto his lap. A rather precarious position. "Please?" There is a longing look in his pretty eyes, the index finger of his right hand insistently running along my lower lip. "Damn the consequences. This beautiful male specimen requires your attention." Ah, he remembers my slip-up in the Denerim inn quite well, I see.

My heart begins pounding even faster, and I can feel I'm about to leave a puddle right on the boy's lap. "Very well. Close your eyes." An involuntary giggle escapes me when he puckers up his lips in a really funny way. "No, don't do that. Just relax." I cup his handsome face in my hands and approach slowly. Can I still back out of this? No, that would hardly be fair. And Maker knows I want it. Badly. A low whimper emanates from deep within his throat as I brush my lips against his. Mmm, so soft. Most unexpectedly, his hand grabs me by the back of the head and he firmly kisses me.

His kiss feels clumsy and awkward, but nice. Our lips stay stuck to each other for what seems like forever, and Alistair doesn't make a move to take things a step further. I run my fingers through his hair, tousling it. Although I do enjoy just locking lips like this, this chaste kind of kiss isn't what I aim to give him. I flick my tongue against his lips and he instinctively parts them, allowing me to slip into his mouth. A half-surprised, half-excited moan escapes his throat as I caress his tongue with my own. One of his hands is resting on my behind, giving it an inquisitive squeeze from time to time, the other high on my back. Hey, that wasn't part of the deal. Unless he's checking my butt for bruises. The heat coming off his body is scorching. Finally we manage to untangle ourselves from one another.

"Wow, that was amazing!" Alistair breathes. "I have a serious hard-on." His frame stiffens. "Did I just say that out loud?"

I give him a friendly pat on the head. "What, that you have a serious hard-on? No, don't be silly!" He doesn't have to say it for me to know it. I can distinctly feel it poking into me. Don't touch it, Astoreth. No matter how loudly it's calling your name, don't touch his one-eyed trouser snake. When all is said and done though, I don't feel any different. I'm not suddenly madly in love with him. Whew.

A long sigh of relief. "Oh, thank the... Wait..."

"Don't sweat it, please. It's only natural." My softly stroking his cheek causes the distress in his eyes to dissipate. "Now, was that was you wanted? A proper first kiss?"

"Yes!" He nods enthusiastically. "I've never felt anything like it."

"I'm glad I could please you. I enjoyed it too." Briefly I hug him. "Do you mind if I go to sleep now? I'm very, very tired. Sorry we couldn't start those swordplay lessons just yet; I still need to heal a bit."

My handsome companion smiles brightly. "No, that's fine. I will begin teaching you when you're ready. Goodnight, Aster." A soft kiss dangerously close to my mouth. "I'm just going to attack my, I mean, I'm probably going to take a bath or something. A cold one."

Attacking his one-eyed, purple-headed warrior, aye? Hot. Maybe I'll not go to sleep right away. Wait, yes, I will. Pleasuring myself with a baby lying right next to me simply won't do. Then again, will I be able to sleep so hot and bothered? Hmm. Well, we'll see. I clamber off his lap and resist the urge to make a remark about joining him. "Goodnight, my friend. I'll see you in the morning."

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><p><em>Next part will be up soon. Thanks for reading! Also, I got up some drawings on dA. Click the link in my profile, give them a looksee and make my day =D. Or don't, it's your party. I just felt like whoring myself out. Also, this amazing guy has this awesome DA2 fan art on his dA profile. If you're interested, look at my profile. He's all over my faves and in my Watcher-list. The name you'll be looking for is Draggeta. Peace.<br>_


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